Before
by Esso
Summary: She was just his little sister - and that was all. At least, that was all until he started to fear her...
1. Before

**A/N: Somehow Russia ended up as an antagonist in If Everyone Cared and Belarus as Hungary's eternal tormenter in its sequel which I have yet to post. I find this peculiar because I don't hate them. I kinda feel sorry for both of them, actually xD And, since I have an obsession with backstory, here's my attempt. It's not meant to be historical or anything like that. Just my crazy imagination. I also meant this to have more chapters, but it wound up as more of a oneshot ^^; However, if enough people like it, then I'll go ahead and add on ;)**

**Standard disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. v.v If I did, why the hell would I have written this?**

Rated T for future chapters ;) 

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_She was just another little girl, in ribbons and curls and dresses, except she was also his younger sister. Perhaps that should have given her some distinction. _

_ But it didn't. At least not when they were older. When they were little, he wasn't afraid of her touch, of her tiny hand clasping his as she dragged him off on various adventures. He had liked it then._

_ And it had always been so simple. It was so easy, so simple, like the children they used to be. It was just Ivan and Natalia. Two words. Two names._

_ Their names, actually. She always put his name first and hers second. It sounded better that way, at least in her mind. It wasn't because she worshiped him with every cell in her body or anything. That was just the way it was._

_ But she still loved her brother more than anything in the world. She still remembered the time when she'd gotten a new dress, blue like the midnight sky, and he'd said he thought she was so pretty in that color._

_ She only wore blue now._

_ He was her only playmate. She would grasp his hand like the only thing tying her to reality as they stepped out onto a blanket of fresh now, sometimes nearly covering her head. But he was always there to go first, to make a path for her tiny feet to travel. Then, two minutes later, he would turn around, grinning, and throw a snowball at her._

_ The snowballs hurt in more than just the way the cold stung or how any hidden ice rammed her body. Why would he throw them at her? Didn't he love her? It was silly, she knew, but she sometimes thought he hated her as he pelted her with hard-packed white missiles._

_ And when spring would come and the weather warmed and the snow melted, he would walk with her and her sister and they would sit on a hill and run through the tall grass. The girls would pick flowers, and he would laugh. She would always pick flowers for him. He would always give her a look of confusion, but then his smile would take over and he would graciously accept. He said he put them in his room, and one time asked her for another when the former bunch dried out. She, of course, had been quick to pick more._

_ In the summer, they would swim in the lake that they so often skated on during the winter. It was during one of these expeditions that she first knew something was wrong with her. The three siblings were racing toward the lake; he was shouting that the last one there wouldn't get any lunch. She had screamed that is was unfair, since she was carrying the picnic basket. And suddenly they were on the shore of the lake, and, without missing a stride, he tore his shirt off and dived in._

_ She hadn't missed a single moment of his bare chest, almost Sue-ish in its beauty. Of course, she hadn't thought like that then. She had merely thought of it as shocked at how nice her brother looked. But, as soon as she registered this thought, his head had popped out of the water and he was splashing the girls, laughing._

_ All she knew that her older brother was suddenly the most gorgeous creature in the world, and that it was very, very, naughty of her to think this._

_ The whole way home that day, she had cast sideways glances at his chest, just to make sure that what she kept seeing was real. She wanted to just touch it, to run her fingers along it, and put a feeling with the view. _

_ He didn't notice. He was laughing with her sister, oblivious to her wonder. But suddenly, his head turned, and he saw her wondering gaze. "What you lookin' at, Nat?" he said, grinning at his rhyme. _

_ "You," she had said, looking into his eyes with her own widened, her voice low and in all seriousness._

_ He had smiled and taken her hand. He hadn't minded then. He hadn't known. She hadn't known, really. _

_ But that was Before._

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**Hope you liked it ^^ Comments are GREATLY appreciated. If you're gonna post a flame, however, Melon and I will sing obnoxious campfire songs around it. Others are welcome to join. ;)**_


	2. Child

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed/added/etc this! And so I give you chapter two! I hope it's as good as the first one ;) **

**Once again, I don't own Hetalia v.v **

**Flames are only good for yummy marshmallows and arson :) So don't do it! Reviews, however, earn you at least 10 million Awesome Points.**

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_She knew about bad people. She had never worried about that sort of thing much, though. She wasn't bad – other than countless pranks pulled on her siblings and arguments and fights that he always won, she was a good girl. She had never intended to feel the way she did, it just happened. That was what she told herself whenever her heart sped up._

_ At least at first, she was deathly afraid of herself. She had never been really bad before. She knew her sister would be ashamed of her, because her sister was never bad. She knew that her sister would never have even dreamed of such things. Her sister would never have dreamed of the feelings that slowly, Natalia was becoming accustomed to._

_ But still, she knew she was naughty. How she knew that her feelings were wrong, she wasn't sure, but she knew. It felt even stranger since she didn't think any other girl felt this way about __**her **__brother. Her sister didn't. Her sister dreamed of meeting the other nations one day._

_ She didn't. She dreamed of her brother, more and more often. She was twelve years old and madly in love…with her own brother. That was how she finally categorized it. Love. In love. _

_ Still, she tried to rationalize. She was only twelve, and when you're twelve you are not often in love. She hoped these feelings would fade over time and be but an embarrassing memory. But she knew that was a lie. She never wanted to stop, if she were honest with herself._

_ And with the revelation of her feelings on that day at the lake came an overpowering need to be close to him. She wanted to touch him, talk to him, or just be near him. Perhaps a different girl would have been shy, but this was her brother. He had never denied her anything, and surely he wouldn't deny her his love._

_ "Ivan, come play house with us!" she had called to him one day. "You can be the dad and I'll be-"_

_ "Sorry, Nat." He hadn't even looked up from his book. "I'm reading. Besides, aren't you a little old for that game?" _

_ She'd bit back the tears as she ran to her room. All she'd wanted was to be close to him, and she'd hoped that he would kiss her if they played house. That certain hope still made her cheeks flush red even as she sobbed into her pillow. _

_ What must he think of her? Surely he thought she was but a child. _I'm not a child, _she thought. _I'm nearly thirteen. _But he was older, wiser, and why would he think of her as anything but a child?_

_ She sat up on her bed and fingered a few tawny strands of hair that had fallen in her face. Looking up, she saw herself in the mirror. Why had she ever thought that he would be attracted to her? Despite her tear-stained eyes and cheeks, she looked absurd. Her dress had more lace and frills than blue fabric, and her hair was mostly done up in ringlets. She looked like a child. _

_ She yanked the giant bow out of her hair, flinging it onto the floor. In the same blind rage, she tore open her closet, only to come face-to-face with dresses like the one she already wore._

_ Childish._

_ She chose one with the least adornment and put that on instead. She fingered her hair and soon began to hack at it with a brush. Try as she might, her hair only half-straightened out. _

_ Taking one last look in the mirror and deeming herself as good as she could possibly look under the circumstances, she squared her shoulders and set off downstairs. By the sound of things, everyone was in one room, talking and laughing like she hadn't just been humiliated._

_ She paused in the doorway, hoping he would see her. Surely she looked more grown-up now, without those stupid curls and lace and bows. Surely she was so beautiful, he would realize that he loved her._

_ It always worked in the books that he used to read to her._

_ "Ivan!" It was meant to sound strong and compelling, but it was hard enough just to get words out, never mind sounding epic._

_ "Nat?" He wasn't the only one to stare at her. Her sister, as well as a young man she recognized as Feliks were looking on in confusion. Why were they confused? She didn't know, but she could guess, and the tears began biting at her throat again._

_ "Like, what's wrong you?" their visitor said teasingly. "Didn't, like, feel like. Um, getting dressed this morning?"  
"D-don't I look more grown up?" she stammered, balling her fists, as if that would keep her composure._

_ "Um, like, not really," Feliks said flippantly._

_ She looked at Ivan for support, but his expression was blank. Why wasn't he sticking up for her?_

_ She didn't stick around to find out. She ran back to her room once again. Why did she keep running, if she was not a child? When she got there, she flung herself onto her bed and buried her face in her still-wet pillow once again._

_ How long was it before the knock? She wasn't quite sure. "Nat?" It was his voice. "Can I come in?"_

_ She nodded, but then remembered that he couldn't see her. "Uh-huh." Her voice was muffled by the pillow, but the door cracked and he walked in. She felt the bed move as he sat down beside her. And – oh God – she was electrified as he put a hand on her back. _

_ "Hey, Nat, I'm sorry 'bout what happened." _

_ She nodded again. _

_ "Don't hate me, okay?"_

_ "Okay."_

_ "Here, sit up so I can talk to you." She sat up immediately. "Look, Nat, if you want to, I'll take you shopping for new dresses."_

_ She hugged him fiercely. "Thank you, Ivan!" she squealed. "I love you so much!" Oh, if only he knew how much she truly loved him._

_ "I love you too, Nat. You're the best little sister ever."_

_ "I-is that all?"  
"All?"_

_ She released her grip in order to look him in the eyes. "Do you only love me as your sister?"_

_ That was the first time he looked truly scared of her._


	3. Rabid

**A/N: First off, THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed/faved/read/etc this! Seriously, that's what makes me update {and that goes for any story ^^}**

**The first part {not in italics} is a flash-forward, to Belarus as we know and love her, maybe even a farther-into-the-future Belarus. It's really up for interpretation. But she's definitely older, wiser, and a total sadist xD The part in italics picks up where the last chapter left off. **

**Obviously, I don't own Hetalia, flames are only good for campfire songs, reviews are so awesome that Prussia is jealous, and - oh yeah - don't stop believin'! ^^**

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Who was she? She was Natalia Alfroskaya, the one thing that terrified her brother, the largest nation in the world.

She, of course, did not know for certain that he was largest, but she intended to find out.

As for being completely and absolutely terrifying, it gave her some degree of satisfaction. Here was a man, half-drunk and completely psychotic, that beat and tortured innocent nations, that wielded a faucet and had the audacity to jump out of a plane without a parachute because there was snow on the ground.

Yes. He was quite psychotic. She had determined this a while ago. She wasn't precisely sure why she still loved him, after all this time.

And then there was Natalia. Small, cute, with long, light hair, innocent in her midnight-blue dress. He was the only one that knew the smirk, had seen the rabid light in her eyes. The torturer being tortured. She found the irony amusing. The most feared, mentally unstable man in the world coming undone because of a girl's simple love. Add in the fact that they were related, and you had her predicament.

Her love wasn't that simple, though. It had started that way – wide-eyed adoration – and suddenly she was older and possessed the bane of a girl's existence, hormones. That's when she became rabid.

--

_ He bought her the dresses, but she couldn't smile. She was terrified – surely she had driven him away with her question. It always worked out in his books: the girl comes forward with a confession of love, in some epic and roundabout way, and the man takes her in his arms and kisses her and swears that he has only been waiting for her to say this. That's how it was supposed to work._

_ The first time, she was more afraid than her brother. She kept meaning to speak with him, tell him that it was a joke, that she was making her sure he wasn't into incest because there had been rumors… she could think up convincing lies, but getting them past her lips was impossible._

_ She was so terrified of losing his love that she laid low for a while. She watched from a distance and tried to constantly be near him. He was growing up, and so was she. When they looked out the windows, her sister always gazed toward Europe, his eyes would possess a dreamy quality, and she would stare at him._

_ Once, he caught her. It was just the two of them. Of course._

"_What you thinkin' of, Nat?" he said, smiling warily._

_ "Where are warm places, Ivan?" She knew how much he loved them._

_ He sighed. "Everywhere but here, it seems."_

_ "Are you going there?"_

_ "Not now."_

_ "If you're miserable here, then why do you stay?"_

_ "I have to protect you girls."_

_ "But Ivan, I'll go with you! We can go somewhere warm together! If you want, we can take Kat-"_

_ "Nat…I don't understand."_

_ "What?"_

_ "Why were you staring at me?"_

_ She forced herself to look away from those eyes. "I want you to be happy."_

_ "Answer the question, Nat." He grabbed her shoulder roughly; his perfect lips only inches from hers. He wouldn't be thinking like that, though. He wouldn't._

_ "I-I just stare into space, Ivan, and I…happened to be looking at you…"_

_ He didn't hide the disbelief on his face. "Nat, if there's something wrong, tell me. You can tell me anything."_

_ "Ivan, I-" She reached a hand out to stroke his face, but he either saw it coming or life hated her, because he released his grip and stepped back._

_ "Never mind, Nat. I guess you don't want to tell m-"_

_ "No, Ivan! I do! I-"_

_ "Nat." His voice was firm. "If something really is troubling you, then tell me."_

_ "I'm trying to!"_

_ "But if it's any more of this 'do you love me as a sister?' business, then I don't want to hear it."_

_ Her heart plummeted off a cliff and smashed into a million shards of shrapnel. "W-why?" she faltered._

_ "You're a funny kid, Nat, but I think we're both too old for those kind of jokes. Go play them on Toris, or-"_

_ "No." Her brow furrowed, and suddenly she looked incredibly like him. _

_ "Nat? What are you-"_

_ "It's not a joke, Ivan. I'm pretty damn serious." She advanced slowly, with a smirk gracing her expression that could very well have been considered unholy, if not slightly demonic._

_ "I love you, Ivan." Her hand reached out to touch him, but he was too quick, darting out of the room at a pace unnatural for his frame._

_ He had not been disturbed. He had not been scared. He had not been afraid. He had not even been terrified. _

_ He had nearly been paralyzed with fear._

_ She knew this. She had seen it on his face. What had she done? Surely she had driven him away! She sank to her knees, feeling the tears tugging at her throat again. She buried her face in her hands and let herself cry. Oh, what had she done?_

_ It wasn't long until her sister came and wrapped her in her arms. She sobbed into her sister's shirt. Her sister didn't mind, because her sister didn't know._

_ He came by eventually. Her sister was indignant that he wasn't comforting her. But he merely shook his head. "I'm sorry, but that girl is rabid."_

_ Was he so naïve to think that she didn't hear?_

_ Yes, her heart was shreds of shrapnel, shreds that dug and tore into her being. Was this was he felt, this overpowering rage that could not be controlled, the half-insanity brought on by years of pain?_

_ "If only I am like him," she thought, "then it is alright._

_ "If only I am like him, I won't mind being rabid._

_ "Because, truth be told, I liked it."_


	4. Gift

**A/N: **SO sorry for not updating! I'm not abandoning this, I swear! I'm also working on two other fics at the same time {my fault ^^; stupid plot brain}, so my muse for this sort of went down, and then I forgot... *slaps self*

Anyway, here is a bright, sparkly new chapter for you guys! Truth be told, I didn't like chapter 3 too much...it seems kind of rushed, but oh well. I'm too lazy to change it. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it! Leave a review and let me know what you think!

Don't own Hetalia. Shocking, I know._  


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_ "What are you making, sister?"_

_ Her sister looked up from the pile of creamy yarn in her lap. "I am making a present for Ivan."_

_ This stunned and shocked her. Why was her sister making something for him…why? "It is not his birthday."_

_ "I know. But he seems rather depressed lately. I wanted to do something nice for him."_

_ Something nice…perhaps she should do something nice as well. He had been avoiding her lately. And he was depressed? Was it her fault? Surely…_

_ "I will make something as well," she said stiffly._

_ "Wonderful! Then we can give him his presents together! He will love them!"_

_ Love them. Yes. He would love them. He had to. She gave her sister a tentative smile as she walked back to her room, thinking, as she was doing all too often._

_ Why was her sister suddenly taking such concern in him? Her sister had never been the one to play with him in the snow – never. Their sister would sit inside and read or knit or do something girly while the two younger children would build snow forts and have snow wars. _She_ had been his constant playmate, not her sister. When he received a knife and instruction on using it, she had been the one to clamber after him, begging to learn to use it too. He had said no, their sister had said no. And then she had cried, and he had looked at her sadly and relented. She still could feel his hands ghosting over hers when she clutched a blade, just as he had taught her. Only as he had taught her._

_ But what to make him? This was a dilemma. It would have to be spectacular. Something that would win him back to her. Something that would dispel any doubt he still harbored about who she was and what she meant. She had determined that she hated being rabid, because he avoided her. But she could never get close enough to convince him that she was not crazy, as he seemed to think._

_ An idea came eventually. It was simple, but it would be enough, she hoped. It usually worked in the books. So she tore out a page from her notebook, smoothed it with her left hand, and picked up her pen, poising it precisely on the first line, tip barely touching the paper._

Dear Ivan,

I just wanted to tell you that you are my best friend. I miss you so much. I am very, very sorry about making you angry. Are you angry? I do not like it when you are angry, because then you ignore me. I do not like it when you ignore me, because then I am very lonely. And that is not fun.

Sister says you are depressed. Why are you depressed? Is it my fault? I hope it is not. I did not mean to be rabid. I just love you. And that is all. I love you very much. Does this frighten you? When we were little, I thought you were never frightened. I still do not think that much frightens you, because you are very frightening. You do not frighten me. I know you are very nice even though you are frightening to some people like Toris and Raivis and Eduard. But they are not very brave so of course they are frightened. But you taught me how to be brave so you do not frighten me.

Well I think that is all.

I love you so very, very much,

Your Nat.

_She carefully folded the paper into thirds, using a ruler to make sure the crease was straight. He deserved nothing but the best – straightly folded letters were at the top of the list. Her sister had finished her gift earlier that day. It was a scarf. She was a bit jealous, but it was too late. They had already planned to grace him with their offerings that night._

_ The siblings were making a bonfire in the backyard, since the weather was cooling rapidly and he wanted to enjoy being outdoors before it got cold. Strangely, he hated the cold._

_ She hated it too. Anything he hated was definitely evil._

_ She watched him that night: as they ate, as he laughed, as he sat next to her with only a slight wariness, as he embraced their sister when she gave him the gift, as he raised a glass of vodka to his lips. She watched._

_ And, when he wasn't looking, she slipped her letter into the flames._

_ It was so stupid - so, so stupid! What had she been thinking? It sounded too awkward, too blunt…too unworthy. She watched as the flames caressed the burning paper, as the edges curled and crumbled into ashes. _

_ "What you lookin' at, Nat?" he said, smiling. Was he drunk?_

_ "The fire."_

_ "You like the fire?"  
"Yes. I like the fire."_

_ He looked so…happy. "Of course you do, Nat."_

_ "Ivan…are you drunk?"_

_ He giggled. "No, not yet. Why?"_

_ "I-I don't want you to get hurt!" _

_ "You are very sweet, Nat." He scooted closer to her. Thankfully she was so close to the fire, or he would have known the real reason why her cheeks were so red. "And I am sorry about what I said, when I said you were rabid. Kat told me how sad you looked. I guess I thought…that you loved me as something other than your brother, and I was," his voice dropped, "frightened."_

_ Ivan? Frightened?_

_ "But then I thought, and I realized that my Nat would never be like that, and she was just kidding! My Nat is always so funny!"_

_ She wanted to cry out, tackle him, feel those beautiful lips pressed to hers, but she knew now not to take such chances. Thank heaven for his blind trust in her. She did not want to lose her Ivan again._

_ She giggled, instead. "You are my best friend, Ivan."_

_ "And you are mine."_

_ She leaned over and gave him a hug, which he returned, although not as enthusiastically as Before. Of course. She was not so naïve to think that he would completely give up suspicion._

_ "Did you do something different to your hair, Nat?" her sister asked, interjecting herself {as the younger girl saw it} rudely into the brother/sister moment._

_ "No. I don't ever do anything with my hair," she said sharply. "Do you think I'm that kind of girl?"_

_ "Your hair looks pretty anyway," he said, smiling down at her._

_ Her cheeks stung, as she blushed even harder. Why did he act like this, and yet still call her rabid?_

_ She wanted to lean over and kiss his cheek, to whisper, "Here's your gift." Surely he loved her, after words such as those._

_ But he had gone back to talking with their sister, laughing._

_ She would not attempt something so risky._

_ No._

_ Nyet._


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